t, Christian.” I wa一ve my hand dismissively.
“The time for talking was yesterday, but instead you decided to rant and get
drunk with the woman who abused you for years. Give her a call. I am sure
she’ll be more than willing to listen to you now.” I find the matching bra and
slowly pull it on and fasten it. Christian walks further into the bedroom and
places his hands on his hips.
“Why were you snooping on me?” he says.
In spite of my resolve I flush. “That’s not the point, Christian,” I snap at him.
“Fact is, going gets tough and you run to her.”
His mouth settles into a grim line. “It wasn’t like that.”
“I’m not interested.” Picking a pair of black thigh highs with lacey tops, I
retreat to the bed. I sit, point my toe, and gently ease the gossamer material
up to my thigh.
“Where were you?” he asks, his eyes following my hands up my legs, but I
continue to ignore him as I slowly roll on the other stocking. Standing, I bend
to towel-dry my hair. Through my parted thighs, I can see his bare feet, and I
sense his intense gaze. When I’ve finished, I stand and step back to the
chest of drawers where I grab my hairdryer.
“Answer me.” Christian’s voice is low and husky.
I switch on the hairdryer so I can no longer hear him and watch him 401 | P a
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Fifty Shades Freed
through my lashes in the mirror as I finger dry my hair. He glares at me, eyes
narrow and cool, chilling even. I look away, focusing on the task at hand and
trying to suppress the shiver that runs through me. I swallow hard and
concentrate on drying my hair. He’s still mad. He goes out with that damned
woman, and he’s mad at me? How dare he!
When my hair looks wild and untamed, I stop. Yes . . . I like it. I switch off the
hairdryer.
“Where were you?” he whispers, his tone arctic.
“What do you care?”
“Ana, stop this. Now.”
I shrug, and Christian moves quickly across the room toward me. I whirl
around, stepping back as he reaches out.
“Don’t touch me,” I hiss and he freezes.
“Where were you?” he demands. His
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